


It, and everything, is gone

by HelpingHanikan



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, One Shot, Prequel, Reader Insert, Short One Shot, Smut, after revenge of the sith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24258961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelpingHanikan/pseuds/HelpingHanikan
Summary: Your entire world has been burned and you can still smell the bodies. With precious cargo and a fellow survivor taking the same ship into the future. This is your last chance to take a breath.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader
Kudos: 49





	It, and everything, is gone

**Author's Note:**

> After watching the end of Clone Wars (like getting hit with a nostalgia brick) and the prequels I was reminded how much I crushed on Obi-Wan and how much I like angst.

It’d be nice to say that Luke looked like Padme. Or that you could see the potential and spirit in him. He, and his sister, came from a senator and Jedi after all. In reality he wasn’t even three days old. He looks like every other infant at that age.

Master Kenobi had yet to say anything after the ship broke the atmosphere. Luke kept the silence from settling by crying periodically. His little face was bright red when the nanny-bot floated towards the little crib. He was still going at it when you stepped into the small latrine.

 _“Hush, little one…”_ The nanny-bot whispers to the baby. You can hardly hear it’s voice through the wall and the crying. The background music to your reflection in the mirror.

The center of your robes and it’s attached sleeves are stained red. The red is fainter than one would assume, like wine had been spilt on them. There’s a small part of your brain screaming to keep the robes on. What if you take them off but the red has burned through and was staining your skin?

Maybe it’s what you deserved. Hiding under the corpses of your fellow knights in a library that’s probably burning by now. You didn’t even know the young man dragged over your body. You didn’t have a name to remember and honor him by, just a description: A dark haired humanoid who was arguably too young to be out of his apprenticeship. You only saw his eyes, brown, when the widened in surprise and panic at being filled with blasts from behind.

It’s the crying, and that it stopped, that you brought you back. Having only made it half-way through undressing that you disappeared into the memories. It was like being shouted at to hurry up. Stripping away your stained Jedi robes in exchange for whatever was onboard. A brown tank top (two sizes too big, of course) and a belt to tie it together. Leaving your black pants but taking off the boots. Those you would keep, as there seemed to be nothing else in your size on board.

Without Luke’s screaming there was a low hum taking over the ship. Master Kenobi sat at the far front, his back to everything and facing the passing stars. With the location logged in the ship was able to fly itself, sometimes a little alarm or light will turn on. Letting the “pilot” know that some changes might have to be made to avoid crashing into anything.

“Tatooine, that’s where Luke’s family is? Have you met them?” You ask.

There really was no need for an answer. Your talking was nothing more than a distraction for what you had to do. Dropping your Jedi robes into the garbage incinerator. Burning up what little was left of the young man you had used as a shield. What were they going to do with the bodies? Probably be burned in a massive pyre where everyone can see what happens to Rebels. At least he and his blood could become one again in flames.

“I met his grand-mother, but that was a long time ago.” Master Kenobi says, not looking at you while answering. It’s only after you take the seat next to him that he continues. “He still has an aunt and uncle; I haven’t met them but that’s the furthest and the best option.”

It’s as if Luke can tell he’s being talked about. His little lungs starting up again. The nanny-bot moving back over to the crib.

 _“Hush little one…”_ It said before you hit the divider. A mock wall slid in the little doorway to the pilot’s section.

“What will happen after? We’ll be hunted, we’re probably being hunted now.” You’re back in the chair. Turning it just enough to be facing him.

“That’s why I will stay. Watch and protect the family from a distance. No one will search for them; I will make sure of it.” He says, leaning back from the hunched over position he was in. Finally looking over to you, waiting for the expected next question.

He was tired; blinking slow and mouth in an unintentional frown. Both of you could feel the lingering death in the force; little stabs through your entire being every time a brother or sister was struck down. It’s a shared feeling of grief, fear, and anger that pressed against the back of your eyes. Those that are still living are screaming, begging for answers and even revenge. The genocide wasn’t just killing, it was destroying everything that was Jedi.

“And me? Where will I go?” You ask, as if you were a child.

His movements are slow but direct. Reaching across the gap to take hold of your hand. Looking where your fingers were touching instead of your face.

The entire day both of you spent thinking of others. Being so empathetic that you could practically feel the burn and shots ripping through your entire being. After the pain stopped the fear and grief would salt the wounds and burn your eyes. It’s only now, with his hand in yours, that you’re allowing yourself to be selfish. To feel the fear of what comes next.

“You’ll take the ship,” Master Kenobi says to your hands. “And disappear. Don’t reach out for survivors the Sith will hear you, they will come for you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Your attention is just as focused on your joined hands. “The council, the Jedi, the order, we’re all gone.” The entire conversation was just spouting out thoughts to eachother. No different than talking to yourself, but your response comes in a different voice. There was no joined thoughts but his silence and squeezing hand agreed.

He lifted your hand as he said “Sorry,” again. Holding your hand against his lips, not kissing, but keeping contact as he closed his eyes.

It only takes a second to move forward. Breaking down the title of “master” with a hand to his face. Cupping and running nails through the reddish beard. He only looked into your eyes for a split second before you broke the distance. Kissing him with a groan that pressed him back into his chair.

“Please,” He says between the quick little pecks. You knee pressing between his legs, resting on the chair seat as a support. Letting your entire weight be take by the chair to hold his face while his hands found your body.

There was nothing that specifically said Jedi had to be celibate. Just against attachments of strong emotional tied: Marriage, children, supposedly even close friends. But that rule was just a fantasy that everyone denied breaking. Even if there was one against sex, you hadn’t know a single master or knight who had followed that rule.

Obi-wan, before the Master status, was one of those rule breakers. Back when you both had a braid behind your ear and only came across eachother once or twice a month at the temple. It’s a deeply buried joke that this is why the robes are the way they are. The cloth took a second to completely remove but the right bits could be exposed with little pulls.

That was the extent of your relationship back then. Slipping into each other’s sleeping quarters and slipping away just enough cloth. His kisses are the same now as they were back then; soft and ready but wanting you to take control.

This was different situation then the younger years, though. Back then you were looking down at a young man with a stupid grin everyone young and attracted to women get when seeing breasts. Now, you’re looking to a man who can’t make eye contact for a whole other reason. Instead focusing on finding the gap between your shirt and pants.

His hands have always been warm, almost hot. So there was no real shock to both his hands pressing against your back. Pulling you in when he breaks through the barrier, his bare hands using strength usually ignored to press you both together. A tight hug, your faces buried in each other’s hair

It was the same kind of need for distraction and relief that teenagers face. But without the thrill of risk attached.

 _“It doesn’t matter anymore,”_ Obi-wan says this somewhere, at some point. It wasn’t verbal, as his mouth was against yours, but it was louder than a scream. Permission that confirmed there was no one to look down on you for this, there was no one to care. There was only the two of you.

He slides forward just enough on the chair for you to take over his lap. With the ‘borrowed’ tank-top pushed up past your breasts they held Obi-Wan’s entire focus. His hands, like fire, held and massaged your breasts. Staying on this side of rough, refusing to let his anger out completely, but letting it make a slight appearance. Your own emotions were directed towards his hair; scratching and rubbing through hair you liked better in this short style. When you got his head to tilt upward you kissed him, scratching through his beard and mapping out his beard.

You didn’t have to tell him to sit up a little. Sitting up for your core’s to meet to slide his pants down past his backside.

Just like before, just like when you were teenagers, there was no penetration. Using spit covered fingers and hard-pressed hands to get each other off. Back then it was just as spur of the moment as now; asking if he would meditate with you if he had the time in the later hours at the temple.

Gasping and groaning into his mouth. Reddish blonde hair was going to be ripped out of his head by the end of this. While chasing his fingers you gripped his hair as a support with one hand. Your other hand trying it’s hardest to create the same reaction on him. Based on the pulling, equal ripping, on your hair you were succeeding.

For the briefest moment nothing was wrong; the screams in the force shut up and the pain holding the universe together was cut. This was why sex wasn’t directly forbidden, no one would be cruel enough to take away that brief moment of actual peace.

When the universe came back, and the controls started beeping, you were still pressed together. You would have to move, get going and keep going, but for now it was like before. Not exactly, but it was close enough.


End file.
